The pick of the crop of breakfast places

Me standing in front of The Orchard Family Restaurant in Mississauga

A few weeks ago, we met my brother at the Orchard Family Restaurant in Mississauga for breakfast.

Whenever I go to the Orchard, it’s like a trip down memory lane. You see “The Orchard” was a regular Sunday morning ritual for my family when I was a child, and especially once my mother passed away.

The Orchard is almost as old as I am. It opened in 1966 a block south of Hurontario and Dundas and was owned by two friends, Angelo Mazaris and Louis Velianou from Florina, Greece. Louis’ son Tom runs it today. An interesting fun fact: my Mom was born in a house on Argyle Street, just a few streets from the Orchard where my grandparents owned a greenhouse for years in the 1930’s. The Orchard was literally in my Mom’s backyard. I’m guessing they called it the Orchard because in those days, that entire area of Mississauga was full of apple orchards.

Back in the 80’s, there was always a long line up at the door to be seated. I loved watching my Dad when he walked into The Orchard. It was like an episode of The King of Kensington or Cheers where everybody knew his name. As soon as my Dad or brother Don were seated, one of the waitresses would come up and give them a hug or kiss. The owners Angelo or Louis would wave in greeting from behind the open counter as they were flipping eggs on the grill.

They say our sense of smell triggers the most powerful memories and that was true with The Orchard. The unmistakeable smell of fried bacon, the intoxicating aroma of the best coffee in town, and that greasy smell of oil from French fries or hash browns that always made your stomach grumble.

At the end of breakfast when we offered to pay for the bill, my Dad would always say, “you can leave the tip”. You paid at the counter on the way out and no one used a debit or credit card in those days–it was always cash.

The Orchard was more than just a breakfast place for our family. As we got older and moved out of my Dad’s house, breakfast at The Orchard was often the only meal we ate as a family together each week. The place where we shared what was happening in each other’s lives. The staff there became an extension of our family, familiar faces on a Sunday morning. And when my father passed away, it was the place we went to honour him and to continue the tradition.

Today, there’s an entire slew of chains serving up breakfast, but few offer the same family feel of a restaurant like The Orchard.

This week’s #HappyAct is to find your favourite breakfast spot that makes you feel like family and help yourself to a big greasy breakfast.

Chow down on a big greasy breakfast

bacon and eggsThere are times when all you really need in life is a big ol’ plate of greasy food.

Last week, while waiting for my connecting flight in the Philadelphia airport, I dug into a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, home fries and rye toast. When you’re up at 4:30 in the morning, a big greasy breakfast really hits the spot.

A big breakfast is more than just a meal. It’s a cultural experience and has always been a big part of my life (I know that sounds funny so let me explain).

As a kid, I had a Sunday Sun paper route. After delivering all my papers, I’d crawl back into bed and would wake up to the smell of bacon frying through the house—a wonderful memory of my Mom. After my Mom passed away, my Dad, my brothers and I would go every Sunday to the Orchard Family Restaurant at Dundas and Highway 10 in Mississauga—still one of the best breakfasts around. In university days, Sunday greasy breakfasts became the culmination of a weekend of partying at my friends’ townhouse in Waterloo. Life is more sedate these days, and now my favourite big greasy breakfast (other than when I’m on the road) is camping trips with Dave and the girls.

This week’s #HappyAct is to chow down on a big greasy breakfast. Don’t count the calories; count the memories. What’s your favourite greasy spoon? Start a list by leaving a comment. If anyone knows of a good one in the Kingston area, let me know.